


an open door

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is good at a lot of things, but communicating with his boyfriend is not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an open door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my "keys" square of [cottoncandy bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/).

It's late and Grantaire is tired, leaning against his door as he reaches into his pocket, his hand closing around his keys. He runs his thumb over the teeth of the keys until he finds the right one for his door. It dips in the middle and he presses his thumb into the space as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. The light in the hallway is broken, as usual, which is the whole reason Grantaire's learned to identify his keys by touch anyway. He slides it into the lock and lets himself inside, kicking his shoes off at the door as he locks it behind him, heading to bed.

He collapses onto his mattress and tired as he is, he can't stop smiling into his pillow. He's spent the last five hours at Enjolras' place and would still be there now, if not for the fact that they both need to sleep and they're definitely not getting any of it when they're in the same bed. He's pretty sure that his neck is covered in hickeys and that's going to make tomorrow's meeting interesting because while his friends don't actually comment anymore, their raised eyebrows and smirks are enough to make Enjolras turn red. Then again, it's not like that ever actually stops him from leaving the hickeys in the first place.

They've been dating for nearly half a year now and Grantaire is pretty sure that by now, most couples have learned how to keep their hands off each other. It's not that they can't manage in public, but when it's just the two of them at one of their apartments, there's no need to stay apart, so they don't bother. 

He can still smell Enjolras' cologne on his hoodie and Grantaire takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. One of these days, if he's lucky, he's going to fall asleep with Enjolras tucked against him and it's going to be the best thing in the world, and that's the thought that stays in his mind as he falls asleep.

The next day, he goes over to Enjolras' place an hour and a half before their meeting at the Musain. Enjolras gives Grantaire an odd look when opening the door for him but it's gone the next moment as he steps forward, holding Grantaire's face in both his hands as they kiss. 

"My bed smelled like you last night," Enjolras murmurs against Grantaire's lips as they walk each other towards the couch. "It was very distracting."

Grantaire grins. "Yeah?"

"Then I woke up this morning and I couldn't smell you anymore. It was very disappointing."

"We could fix that," Grantaire offers, turning them towards Enjolras' bedroom. "We've got the time."

Enjolras beams. "I love the way you think."

"I love that you think you're being subtle," Grantaire replies, kissing the tip of Enjolras' nose before taking his hand. "Come on."

There's already a sheet spread out on top of Enjolras' bed, and Grantaire can't help the way it makes him grin. They kiss again and Enjolras makes Grantaire lie down on the bed with his face down, stretching him open gently, slowly, until Grantaire is panting and begging. Enjolras fucks him with deep, steady thrusts that leave Grantaire breathless, until he's clutching at the covers to anchor himself, because this feels so good that he might just float away. Enjolras' hand covers one of his own, lips scattering kisses along his spine.

"You're beautiful," Enjolras pants, rolling his hips just right and drawing a long, loud moan from Grantaire. "You feel so wonderful."

Grantaire can't draw enough breath to speak, can't string a coherent sentence together in his head anyway, and so he turns his hand around so that his palm is facing up, to grip Enjolras' hand tightly. They squeeze each other and Grantaire's breath hitches. Enjolras knows he's close and fucks him harder, panting as he whispers praise, encouragement, until he's chanting, "Come for me, come for me."

Grantaire obeys, Enjolras' name falling from his lips, like it's something sacred. Enjolras is close behind, coming with a breathless gasp. He stays where he is on top of Grantaire for a moment, before slowly pulling away and throwing his condom out. Grantaire rolls onto his back, away from the wet spot, smiling when Enjolras joins him in bed again. They lie in each other's arms for a moment, kissing, until Enjolras gets up and leads the way to the shower.

There's a drawer full of Grantaire's clothes at Enjolras' place, just as Enjolras has a drawer of his clothes at Grantaire's. As they towel each other dry and get dressed, the odd expression from before returns and Enjolras hums in thought as he sits on the edge of his bed, watching Grantaire do his jeans up. 

"When you came over…" he begins, and then cuts himself off, pressing his lips together.

"Yeah?" Grantaire asks, because Enjolras doesn't leave things half-said. 

"You knocked."

"As you do," Grantaire replies, smiling. "You think we should come up with a secret knock? I could do one short knock, one long, one short—"

"You're a dork," Enjolras tells him fondly.

"You're one to talk." Grantaire buckles his belt and walks over to Enjolras, kissing his forehead. "It's okay, though. I kind of love that about you."

"If I did just one short knock, people would think I'm incredibly rude," Enjolras murmurs, getting to his feet and double-checking that he has all of his material for their meeting before putting it into his messenger bag.

Grantaire chuckles. "People think you're rude anyway. Something to do with the fact that you take great pleasure in telling them why they're wrong. In great detail."

"Only if they're wrong _and_ being stupid about it," Enjolras replies, shrugging, before his lips curve into a smirk and oh, Grantaire is so in love with him that he can't breathe, can't think. 

Enjolras smiles, having learned to understand this particular expression of Grantaire's. Taking one of Grantaire's hands into his own, he tugs gently. "To the Musain?"

"You lead and I'll follow you anywhere," Grantaire murmurs and months ago, when he'd first said it, his words had been mocking. Now, they come out quiet and reverent. Enjolras presses a brief kiss to Grantaire's lips and leads the way.

«·»

The odd look comes back when they return to Enjolras' apartment after the meeting. Enjolras slows as they approach the door, looking at Grantaire for a moment, before taking his keys out with a quiet sigh. He unlocks the door and they both go inside, curling up on the couch. Enjolras has his laptop open as he composes an email to a local politician and Grantaire leans against him, reading.

Everything feels just like normal, and that's why it takes Grantaire a few days to realise that something is off. He does his very best to read Enjolras' moods, to tell when he's done something wrong, but he doesn't realise this time until one afternoon, when Enjolras opens his door for Grantaire, who has started knocking with his short-long-short pattern. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes but before Grantaire can ask, they're kissing and Enjolras is pressed against him, and Grantaire doesn't spare a thought for anything else. 

It's not that the arguments come out of nowhere, because they still clash a lot and sometimes that leads to both of them being too stubborn to back down and spending hours arguing. What Grantaire doesn't understand is why it's become such a regular occurrence all of a sudden. Enjolras is quick to anger, quick to take it out on Grantaire and even then, Grantaire doesn't realise how bad it is until in the middle of one argument, Enjolras stops mid-sentence and tells Grantaire to go home.

Grantaire does, stopping by a bar along the way, then another, and his hands are still shaking when he gets home as he tries not to panic about Enjolras. He grabs his keys out of his pocket, sliding the correct one into his lock and turning the light on in his apartment as he walks in. 

He fumbles as he takes the key out of the lock, dropping his keyring. He swears under his breath, bending down to pick them up and that's when he realises that instead of the three keys that are meant to be on his keyring—house, laundry room, bike—there are four. He stares at the extra key in confusion. It's shaped similarly to his house key, but it's completely unfamiliar. He runs his thumb along the teeth and frowns, putting his keyring back in his pocket. 

He doesn't see Enjolras the next day, and texts him that afternoon with, _I don't know what I did but I'm sorry_. Enjolras doesn't reply and Grantaire feels even worse. He doesn't know what to do and spends the entire evening going over every single thing he could have possibly done wrong until he's convinced himself that Enjolras is going to leave him. 

It doesn't help that when he wakes up the next morning, he finds a text from Enjolras that reads, _Can you come over so we can talk?_

Grantaire takes his bike, because it stops him from doing something potentially stupid, like filling a flask full of his strongest whiskey just in case he needs it. As he parks his bike on the street by Enjolras' apartment, the mystery fourth key catches Grantaire's attention again and he runs his fingers over it as he climbs the stairs up two levels to Enjolras' door.

The realisation hits him then, like a ton of bricks.

The key in his hand slides into Enjolras' lock with ease and he turns, pushing the door open, to find Enjolras pacing and wringing his hands. Enjolras immediately goes still, turning to Grantaire. He looks between Grantaire's face and the door, where the key is still in the lock, and makes a pained noise at the back of his throat.

"Why now?" he demands. He sounds defeated. "Why did you use it now, of all times, and never before?"

"You didn't say anything," Grantaire replies quietly. "I didn't even realise, Enjolras."

"You didn't—you seriously didn't notice that there was an extra key there?"

Grantaire pulls the key out of the lock and shuts the door behind him. "You know I don't look at my keys when I take them out of my pocket. I didn't notice. I'm sorry. How long has it been?"

"A week. I put it on your keyring when you weren't paying attention." Enjolras pinches the bridge of his nose. "I thought—I was hoping that you would notice it when you went home and unlocked your door. I thought you'd figure out that it was mine."

"You thought I knew all this time," Grantaire realises with a sinking feeling. "That's why you were upset with me?"

Enjolras nods mutely. It takes him a moment to speak. "I thought you didn't want it, that you didn't want _this_. That you were ignoring the key, because you didn't know how to say—"

"No, no, never." Grantaire crosses the small distance between them, pulling Enjolras close. "Never, Enjolras. Of course I want them. I want this. You. I love you."

"You love me," Enjolras repeats with wonder.

"Please Enjolras," Grantaire says with a quiet laugh, holding Enjolras' face in his hands. "Don't tell me you didn't already know that."

"You've only ever said you love something _about me_ and I wasn't sure—"

"I love everything about you," Grantaire replies. "I love you. All of you. I'll repeat it as many times as you need. Forever. _I love you_."

"I love you," Enjolras murmurs, wrapping his arms around Grantaire and breathing him in. "I missed you. My bed doesn't smell like you any more."

"We can fix that," Grantaire tells him, kissing his forehead and leading the way to Enjolras' bedroom. 

Now, without everything else distracting him, Grantaire takes notice of the bags under Enjolras' eyes. He's probably been sleeping just as poorly as Grantaire has. With one more kiss in the doorway of Enjolras' bedroom, Grantaire gets onto the bed, beckoning Enjolras closer. 

"I love you," Enjolras says again, crawling into bed, his smile growing when Grantaire pulls the covers over both of them. 

"I love you too," Grantaire whispers, shutting his eyes and falling asleep with Enjolras tucked against him.

**Author's Note:**

> I nearly called this fic "we finish each other's sandwiches"


End file.
